Part Three
The next night, Brom could hear Murtagh's screams from across the gardens, echoing through the night air like some wailing banshee. At his cries, a tear escaped from Brom's eye, tracing its way down his bearded face. It was unbearable to hear the little boy going through so much pain and not understanding what happened. Brom very much doubted the boy ever would understand the depth of his father's cruelty. Nor did he wish for him to understand. Brom had seen enough of the evil that lay within Morzan's heart, and he knew Selena had seen enough as well; he would never wish that knowledge on another. But the boy would carry that scar as a stark reminder for the rest of his life, however long that would be. Brom feared Morzan would eventually tire of using the boy, and would dispatch of him.
But what angered him more was that Selena could not go to her son, for fear of Morzan discovering it. The way he treated them both, it was despicable. He'd lain awake all night thinking of her, and he could not understand why. She was the enemy; his foe; the vessel for exacting his revenge. And yet... Last night, when he'd held her in his arms as she sobbed for the atrocities committed against her son, all of his inhibitions and reservations had melted away into nothingness. Why had he allowed himself to do that? What was she to him? The more he thought about it, the more he dreaded the answer...
A knock at the door of his cottage jolted him out of his thoughts. He peeked out the window, and saw the sky was pitch black. Who would be calling at this hour? The opening of the door revealed to him the absolute last person he would have expected.
"Thane," she said quietly. "I don't mean to disturb you, and I'm sorry if I have." Brom stared at Selena, dumbstruck. What was she doing here?
"It is no matter, my lady," he mumbled, his eyes still wide in surprise. "How may I be of service to you?" Brom finally regained enough of his senses to avert his eyes from her face.
She stared at him for a long time, chewing at the inside of her cheek out of nervous habit. Her dark eyes bored into his, and finally she said, "May I come in?"
"Of course, my lady." He stepped aside, and held out an arm to usher her into his humble shack. She walked in quickly, her back as straight as a board.
"And may we dispense with such formalities?" she said, her voice slightly betraying her annoyance.
Brom bit back the words that teetered on the edge of his tongue, and instead settled for a simple, "If you wish."
Selena looked about the cottage. It was a small place, but Brom kept it tidy and organized. It was the only way he could stay sane in this place. Finally, the Black Hand took a seat at his modest table, and gazed up at him with an odd look in her eyes.
"May I get you something to drink? Or perhaps a small morsel..." At her silence, Brom let the question fade away. What was she doing here?
"Do you know why I have come?" she said quietly. Her voice was not commanding, as Brom had expected. Rather, it seemed desperate.
"I must confess, I do not," he replied warily. He could not help but notice how different she seemed from last night. Whereas the night before she had been frantic and disheveled in her nightgown, now she was composed in dark clothes that he knew she wore when she was on a mission for Morzan.
"It has to do with what happened last evening," she continued. "I know that you know who did that unspeakable thing to my son. And I'm here to ask your help."
"With what, my lady?" He could not help himself but to use the formalities he'd become accustomed to.
"I am going to kill Morzan." Her voice was calm and assured, but he saw the fear swimming in her eyes. At her admission, Brom felt his hands begin to shake slightly, and the first thought that came to his mind was in wonder if this could be a trap.
He was quiet for a very long time, just staring back at her, trying to divine if she was being truthful or not. He inspected her posture, and she seemed confident. And then he remembered how he'd seen her singing to her son, and he knew that she meant every word she'd spoken. "And you need my help?" he finally asked, his voice sounding raspy to his own ears.
"It will be easier with two of us," she explained, and he could hear the relief in her voice. "And I know you abhor my husband for what he did." Brom thought she could not know how true that statement was.
"It is a terrible thing, my lady," he whispered. "But what can I do to help you?"
"You have an advantage here that I do not. And that is invisibility. As a servant, you have the ability to move about the castle virtually unnoticed, and that is something I greatly need. While I am the one who is closest to him, there are things even I do not know about Morzan. Mainly his weaknesses."
"What do you know of his sickness?" Brom questioned, finally taking a seat at the table across from her.
"Sickness?" She eyed him questioningly. "What are you speaking of?"
"It seems he's kept it hidden better than I thought," Brom said, mostly to himself. "The healer told me that he gives Morzan a tincture for the White Plague." Selena sucked in her breath in surprise. She knew as well as he what a disease as deadly as the White Plague could do to the castle. "Yöthern assures me that it is contained," Brom continued swiftly, "but the disease is slowly killing him."
"How slowly?" she asked.
"It's impossible to know with his extended lifespan," Brom replied. "It could be another ten years, it could be another hundred."
"I cannot afford to wait for some disease to end his life," she spat derisively. She looked away, contemplating the thoughts that raged around in her mind. Then, she looked at Brom warily. "Why would Yöthern share this information with you?" Her voice held notes of accusation, and Brom began to worry. Should he tell her? Can she be trusted? He decided he did not have much of a choice.
"Because I questioned him on it last night, after you'd returned to your chambers," he said quietly. "Ever since I came here, my intention has been to accomplish the very thing you request my help for. For the past year, I have searched for a way to kill Morzan. And now, with you, I think I finally know how to do it."
Her eyes searched his face questioningly, and Brom knew that this was the moment; he would either finally get his chance to be rid of Morzan once and for all, or his own life was about to end. Finally, after moment's of breathless anticipation, Selena said, "What ill will do you bear him? What has he done to you?"
"He killed the one who was most precious to me." Brom swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat at the thought of Saphira. Over a year had passed, and yet the wound still felt as fresh as the day she'd died.
"Your wife?" Selena asked with a pitying gaze.
Brom shook his head, furrowing his brow angrily. "No, not my wife." He hesitated only momentarily, and then he saw the realization upon her face. "He slew my dragon. Morzan was my best friend, and he betrayed me."
"It's you," she said in a breathless whisper. The shock was evident on her face, and Brom was sure she would leap up from the table to run from him. But she surprised him by staying. "You're Brom, aren't you?" He nodded slightly, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Selena averted her gaze finally, staring blankly at the floor for a long while. Brom thought she must be weighing her options, and deciding what to do.
"Well," she finally uttered, shifting her dark eyes back to his face, "it seems I have made a better decision than I'd originally thought." Brom felt a weight lift off his shoulders. She was not going to betray him. "I am sorry for what he did to you, and to your dragon," she continued, quite surprising Brom with the tenderness in her voice. "But now we shall join our hatred to end him, once and for all."
And so, well into the wee morning hours, they devised a plan.
Selena visited him often over the next several weeks, whenever she was at the castle. Morzan seemed to be sending her on more missions lately, and Brom found himself cherishing the time they had together. Against his better judgment, he knew he was developing feelings for her. There was something changed about her, since the incident with Murtagh, and he recognized the hatred in her eyes. It was the same hatred he'd harbored against Morzan for so long.
It had been almost two months since they'd first hatched their plan, and they'd altered and tweaked it many times since then, but now, it was finally ready. She came to him late one night, and told him of the impending visit from a local dignitary. That would be their one and only chance. The visit was still two months away, but he found himself pacing in anticipation nearly every day as he thought about it. His revenge was so close, he could almost taste it. The prospect was nearly overwhelming.
But all of that changed one wintry day, as he trimmed the winter hedges about the terrace. It was growing late in the afternoon, and he would be retiring for dinner soon. But the unexpected appearance of Avarin stopped him in his tracks.
The little bespectacled man stood hidden partly by a hedge, and he beckoned Brom closer to him. "To the rookery," he whispered urgently, "quick as you can." The steward scuttled quickly off, leaving Brom in a dazed state. What was that all about? He dropped his shears in the dirt, and followed quickly behind Avarin to the tower he called home.
Once at the top, Avarin handed over a sealed letter, not uttering a word. Brom stroked the cream envelope with his calloused fingers, catching his breath as he recognized the seal. Quickly, he tore into the letter and began reading as swiftly as his eyes would allow. The words he found there set his heart to racing.
"What news?" Avarin asked impatiently.
Brom finished reading the letter, and then let his arm fall to his side. The words were caught in his throat; he could hardly believe them. Finally, he uttered, "I must leave."
"What, now?" the steward said. "What did the letter say?"
"I must leave the castle," Brom said, firmer this time. His meaning finally settled on Avarin, and the little man fell quiet. "The opportunity we have waited so long for has finally arrived. The Varden is in need of my help."
"B-but," the steward stuttered, "your mission—?"
"Must wait," Brom cut him off bitterly. He stewed on his thoughts a moment longer, and then released a heavy sigh. He looked over at the steward. "I thank you greatly, for all of your help. Perhaps I will come back one day, to finish what I started. But until then, I wish you well." Avarin said not a word, only nodded in recognition of his thanks. Brom left the tower as swiftly as he came, the echo of the ravens cries following him all the way down.
Selena was not so understanding as Avarin.
"We are mere weeks away from accomplishing our goal, Brom," she seethed quietly, trying to contain her anger and not scream at him, as he knew she wished she could. "And now you tell me you must leave immediately? What has changed? Are you no longer dedicated to our goal? Have you had second thoughts about me?"
"None of that is true, Selena, and you know it," Brom shot back at her. She clamped her mouth shut, but her hands remained firmly fixed to her hips in an angry gesture. "But I have realized that there are things in this world that are more important than my own thirst for revenge."
"What is more important than killing the king's right-hand man?" She threw her arms out to the side in exasperation.
"Ensuring the survival of my people," he replied as calmly as he could. At that, Selena went quiet, and her arms fell limply to her sides.
"What do you mean?"
Brom sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I wish I could tell you," he muttered in a defeated tone. "But as an agent of the Varden, I cannot. It is nothing personal, Selena, I hope you know that. But in time, if we are successful, you will understand why I cannot stay to complete our task."
He could tell there were more things she wished to say, but she remained silent, hanging her head in defeat. "Very well," she whispered. "Though I may never understand it, I accept that you must leave." Brom let out the breath he'd been holding in relief. He did not know if he could leave were she still angry with him. He walked over to her slowly, and put an arm around her shoulder to pull her into his chest. In the weeks since they'd been meeting in secret, they had grown close to one another, and she'd allowed Brom to be physically affectionate. Now, she nuzzled her head against him, closing her eyes so he could not see the tears forming there.
He stroked her dark hair tenderly, reveling in this moment for as long as he could. In these past weeks, Brom had realized that the feelings he'd harbored for her were growing stronger, into something more than mere affection. For all of the things he'd believed about her at the start, she'd proved them all wrong. She was not the callous, unfeeling warrior he'd imagined her to be. No... She was tender, and had an enormous capacity for love, most of all for her son.
"I wish that we could come with you," she suddenly whispered, giving him pause. He stopped stroking her head, and pushed her away from him slightly so that they might look each other in the eye.
"You cannot, Selena," he told her sadly. "Morzan would never leave you alone with Murtagh long enough for you to spirit him away. And where would you go?"
"Anywhere," she replied wistfully. "We could even go home, to Carvahall. He'd never think to look for us there."
"It is too dangerous, Selena," Brom said seriously. "Morzan will not take this betrayal lightly. He will hunt you down to the very ends of the earth, and he will make your son pay for it." She cast her eyes down to the floor, quickly realizing that he was right.
"I cannot stand it here much longer," she muttered.
"When this is over," he said, angling her chin up to look at him, "I will return to finish what we started. And then I will take you and your son away from here." She blinked slowly a few times, not really registering what he had just said. And Brom never knew what came over him when he leaned just the slightest bit forward, tasting her lips as he had longed to for months now. She didn't pull away and shout as he had expected her to. In fact, she grabbed onto the collar of his tunic desperately, pulling him impossibly closer to her body. His hand cupped the back of her neck, and the other went about her waist, gripping on to her for dear life. A fire was ignited in his soul, one that he had never felt before in all his years of living.
Their passion could not be met with the fervor of their movements. The longer he stayed kissing her, the more he realized it was not enough. Brom threw all caution to the wind as he gripped at the hem of her shirt, tugging it up and over her head, breaking away from their passionate embrace just long enough to let the fabric pass. At any moment, he expected her to tell him to stop, to shove him away and leave. But she didn't. If anything, she encouraged him with every moan and whimper that escaped her mouth.
Brom did not know if all they had done, and would do, was because he was leaving this place in the morning. But in that moment, when everything seemed to align perfectly, he did not care.